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by eightofcoins
Summary: P4. Dojima bonds with Souji over an experience he thought he'd never share with anyone.


_**Prompt**_

_I like the angst, anons. .-. And I would bestow much love and kisses upon anyone who would write some very particular Souji-bonding-with-Dojima fic:_

_Souji has a strong bond with his uncle, except in one area - Chisato's death was always off-limits. Dojima kind of thought Souji was too young to really get it, and Souji sort of felt it was too personal for him to really understand or discuss, so out of respect for his uncle's privacy he leaves it be. _

_Until years down the road, when his own partner is killed. And suddenly he understands all too well._

_I'd really just like to see Souji as an adult, relying on Dojima while he tries to deal with his loss, and Dojima in turn opening up to Souji when he sees that his nephew is falling apart and really, really needs him. Some emphasis on their brotherly relationship (now that Souji's older it's a little more equal than it was when he was a kid) would be neat. _

_I'm partial to Souji/Yosuke, but really, whatever strikes your fancy, anon - as long as there's Souji and Dojima relying on each other, it's all good. ;v;_

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_2032_

The sky was a brilliant blue on the day of the funeral, clear and perfect. The guests were a sea of blue, officers and sergeants and inspectors and superintendents and commissioners in their neat blue dress uniforms.

Ryotaro's own dress blues, long forgotten in the back of his closet, had been crisp and immaculate; Nanako had made sure that her father would be properly dressed to honor her "sister"-in-law.

Nanako had been the one to push her Big Bro's wheelchair up the aisle, past his parents and Kujikawa and Tatsumi and Amagi and Satonaka and Teddie and Hanamura in their black suits and dresses and kimonos.

Little Akira had held onto her father's hand as she quietly sat in his lap; at three-years-old, she was too young to know what was going on, but just like her mother and father, she met uncertainty with calm reserve.

Shirogane Estate had been in full bloom that spring: Fields of rolling green; gentle pink blossoms that rained from the trees; a shrine overflowing with wreaths of flowers for the dead. The afternoon sun had been warm and golden.

Later - after the honor guard had been dismissed, after the tearful speeches, after the retainers had laid their mistress's ashes to rest in the family tomb, after the condolences had been paid, after the husband and daughter bade their final farewells - when Ryotaro closed his eyes and tried to remember the funeral, all he could think of was grey.

Souji's eyes had been - and were still - so hollow.

Those eyes were the silent signs of a wound that hurt more than the shattered shoulder or punctured lung. Souji's friends had all tried to face him to console him properly, but they had all flinched away from those eyes. Even Nanako had seemed frightened.

When his turn came, Ryotaro was sure he could look Souji in the eye. He was sure those eyes couldn't hurt him. How could they? Those were the same eyes he saw every time he looked in the mirror ever since...

Yet Ryotaro shrunk away as he murmured, "I am so sorry for your loss, Souji."

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><p>That sleepless night, Ryotaro realized his mistake. Once upon a time, he thought that the cruelest aspect of Chisato's death - beyond its senselessness, beyond its lack of justice, beyond a broken daughter and defeated husband - was that he never got to say goodbye, that he wasn't there with Chisato at the end.<p>

As he turned over the facts of the _2032 Murder of Detective Naoto Shirogane_ and _2032 Attempted Murder of Souji Shirogane_ cases in his head, Ryotaro guiltily conceded that the circumstances of his own wife's death might have been a mercy in the end.

The assassin had been bold: He made his move in broad daylight during a weekday, as Naoto and Souji had met in front of their favorite lunch spot. The assassin had been good: Three bullets from his revolver's six had struck Naoto square in the chest before Souji could throw himself in front of his wife to intercept the next two. The assassin had been fearless: One bullet had been held in reserve as the escape plan, to be used in a single, precise, unhesitating shot that pierced from below his chin through the back of his skull.

And as the frightened crowd gathered around and screamed and called for help, Souji had watched his wife of 15 years bleed out in his arms without a word or whimper while he endlessly whispered, "Stay with me, Naoto, stay with me, Naoto, stay with me, Naoto, stay with me, Naoto, stay with me, Naoto, stay with me..."

Ryotaro never could sleep well, but for a week after the funeral, he stayed up watching TV through the night. Whenever he dozed off, he would see Chisato, red and silent in his arms, and then the infomercials seemed positively enthralling.

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><p>"Souji, you need to take care of yourself! For her! And for your daughter!" he yelled through the sturdy oak door that sealed off the master suite of the stately Shirogane mansion. "Souji, please, come out! Nanako's worried about you! Your friends are worried about you! I... I'm worried about you, dammit!"<p>

Ryotaro had had trouble making out her words through the crying, but he finally understood what Nanako was trying to tell him that morning when she showed up unannounced at his front door.

"Y-Yakushiji-san says that Big Bro hasn't gone to his doctor's appointments, and isn't taking calls, and isn't eating, and probably isn't sleeping, and Big Bro hasn't come out of his room since the funeral, and Akira-chan is so scared, and how could Big Bro do that to her, how could he, he should know better, and Yukiko-neechan says that Big Bro won't talk to any of them, and I tried going over to the mansion but Big Bro won't talk to me! Daddy, why won't he talk to me?"

He wrapped his arms around her; it wasn't quite so easy now that she was all grown up, but to a father, his daughter was always his little girl. "I'll go and talk with him. I think he'll listen to me."

"Why, Daddy? Why you and not me, or anyone else?"

He stroked her long hair, beautiful just like her mother's. "Nanako, honey... I could never imagine what it's like to lose a mother, not like you or Akira-chan. But, I know what it's like to lose a wife..."

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><p>Ryotaro considered breaking down the door, but before he could get a running start, he heard something click and then the door opened a crack. He could see a flash of grey.<p>

"Souji, let me in."

"..."

The door didn't move. Ryotaro didn't force himself in.

"Souji, listen, I... you know that I know how you feel, right?"

"..."

"I know you're angry and it hurts like hell."

"..."

"I know you feel guilty that you couldn't do more to protect her."

"..."

"I know you're punishing yourself because you think you deserve it."

"..."

"I know you want to die to see her again."

"..."

"I know you're too scared to actually do it."

Ryotaro heard a familiar broken mewl from behind the door.

"I know you think you're a coward and that she's disappointed in you."

The door trembled.

"But you can't think that way. She wouldn't want you to think that way."

The man behind the door fell to his knees and the door opened wide.

"Souji, it'll never stop hurting, but I'll tell you a secret, just between you and me."

"..."

"Love hurts, and you'll never stop loving her."

"I... I know it will never stop hurting... but..." Souji looked up plaintively. "Does it get better?"

Ryotaro looked him in the eye and smiled a familiar, tired little smile.

"Yes. Yes, it gets better," he lied.

Souji would learn the bitter truth one day, but it was better to give him hope.

_Fin_


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